Fine, It's Fine
by HecateA
Summary: Kingsley was supposed to be gone for about a week on business, but Sirius wasn't supposed to be alone. Oneshot.


**Author's Note: **Enjooooy! Also the title is absolutely a Hadestown reference, I am _freaking out _about this musical you guys.

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

**Warnings: **Depressive episode, including implied alcoholism.

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**Stacked with:** MC4A; Sky's the Limit; Flouting Regulations; Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

**Individual Challenge(s): **Gryffindor MC; Bow Before the Blacks; Brush; Seeds; Golden Times; Old Shoes; Themes and Things A (Travel); Themes and Things B (Loneliness); Ethnic & Present; Rian-Russo Inversion (Y); Flags and Ribbons (Y); Letter of the Day; Short Jog; Yellow Ribbon; Yellow Ribbon Redux

**Representation(s): **Kingsley/Sirius, asexual Kingsley

**Bonus challenge(s): **Second Verse (Middle Name); Chorus (Wabi Sabi)

**Tertiary bonus challenge: **Satisfaction

**Word Count: **1623

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_**Shipping Wars**_

**Ship (Team): **Sirius Black and Kingsley Shacklebolt (Starry Storms)

**List (Prompt): **Summer Big List (Bathing)

* * *

**Fine, It's Fine **

_You always said that I'd come back to you again_

_'Cause everybody needs a friend, it's true_

_Someone to quiet the voices in my head_

_Make 'em sing to me instead, it's you_

-Bad Habit, Ben Platt

Kingsley had already had far, far more unpleasant experiences working undercover. As far as possible missions were concerned, a week-long trip to North America with the Muggle Prime Minister was quite cushy. Kingsley had been somewhat shocked to have been classified as essential personnel for the trip, but Scrimgeour and Dumbledore were both pleased and took this as a sign that Kingsley was doing well. Kingsley agreed. Besides, if Scrimgeour was willing to part with him for a week for the sake of protecting a Muggle politician, it was a sign that Scrimgeour wasn't completely convinced that Voldemort hadn't returned.

"North America is far," Sirius had said, wrinkling his nose when Kingsley broke the news to him one night. He'd tried to pick a good time to do it. Tonight, Sirius was in a relatively good mood. His enchanting smile came easily as they sat and played cards in front of the living room fireplace.

"An ocean away," Kingsley said. "I'll have to take a plane, too. A private jet, Muggles call them."

"I don't like that," Sirius said. "Those things are like death traps."

"Says the man who yearns for an enchanted flying motorcycle," Kingsley teased back.

Seven days. It was a seven day job during which he was disconnected from the Order, during which he asked a neighbour to water his plants and keep an eye on his flat, and during which he lived under strict instructions not to use magic unless of an emergency. Seven days wasn't an awfully long time, but Kingsley was antsy to get home. Once they'd landed in London and he was dismissed, Kingsley went straight back to the Auror office and changed into the clean clothes he kept under his desk (a soft button-down and a pair of trousers) and brushed his teeth. Then, feeling a little more human, he had his debrief session with Kingsley.

"I'll have to ask Arthur Weasley—down in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office—to look into what happened to the plane, to see if it was a curse or a genuine mechanical failure that complicated our journey out," Kingsley said.

Scrimgeour nodded and signed a purple slip of paper that he passed to Kingsley.

"Give him this, to mark it as high-priority," he said. "Otherwise, do you have your mission log?"

Kingsley nodded and passed along the bound pieces of parchment.

"Password for the ink to appear is _Parliamentary Process," _Kingsley said.

"Clever," Scrimgeour said. "I'll make sure to read this over tonight. We'll get back to it tomorrow morning, when it's still fresh. Then you'll have some well-deserved time off."

"Yes sir."

"Why don't you leave early today as well," Scrimgeour said, leaning back in his chair and opening the booklet. "You've had a long day."

"Thank you sir. Goodnight sir."

He was antsy to get back to Grimmauld Square but stopped by Tonks' desk, in case she had any messages for her.

"I've been undercover tracking these damned unlicensed wandmakers mostly. All I know is that you missed chicken tender day at the cafeteria," she said, slipping him a note. He stuffed it in his pocket and ruffled her hair before walking out.

As he made his way out back into Muggle London, he uncrumpled the note, tapped his wand to it in a quick _revelio,_ and read over the words that appeared.

_D. said he'd stop by the house tonight to talk to you about the Muggle PM. Haven't had a chance to stop by recently either. L's been sent to Wales, but P. will be there. Say hi to him for me. Also I missed your face, don't you dare leave me alone in this office again. —Tonks_

When he made it to the house, it was eerily quiet—which was saying something since Grimmauld Place was, well, always quiet.

"It's me, Kingsley," he said quietly enough not to wake Mrs. Black's portrait.

Nothing. He shrugged off his coat and hung it by the door, dropping his bag and meandering into the house. It was dusty. The kitchen was empty; there weren't even dishes in the sink. There was no sign that it had been lived in in any way.

He peeked into one living room and found Kreacher, stitching up an old dress that must have belonged to some distant ancestor.

"Kreacher," Kingsley said.

"Ah look, he's back, the pureblood from such a nice family, turning against his most illustrious blood and disappointing his ancestry—much like my master, if my poor mistress could only see…"

"Yes," Kingsley said. "Your master. Where is he?"

"In the house, always in the house, though he couldn't wait to leave it once upon a…"

"Where in the house?" Kingsley interrupted.

"His bedroom. He has not left it in days."

"What?" Kingsley said. "Why..? Nevermind, Kreacher. I'll leave you to your sewing."

He made his way to Sirius' bedroom, and found the door ajar. He knocked once and got no response.

"Sirius, it's me," Kingsley said.

"Don't."

"Sirius?" Kingsley asked, frowning. "Why not?"

"Don't, you'll…"

Sirius' voice sounded pasty, faraway. Still on edge from his mission, Kingsley rested a hand on the halter where he kept his wand and pushed the door open.

Sirius was laying in bed, the covers a mess. The lights were turned off and the curtains were drawn, but when the sliver of light came in from the hallways Kingsley spotted empty bottles on the bedside table.

"Sirius?"

"I said don't," Sirius said, pushing himself up slowly and painfully.

"I was worried. For good reason I think," he said. He flicked on the light and Sirius winced, but sat up groggily, his back to the door. Kingsley felt himself shrivel up as well when he noticed just how dirty and messy Sirius' hair was. He obviously hadn't groomed his beard or touched it up recently, and his clothes were so wrinkled that he must have slept in them too.

"What happened?" Kingsley asked.

"Nothing," Sirius shot back.

"What do you mean 'nothing'?" Kingsley asked. "You're… you're a mess."

"Thank you, that means a lot."

"That's not what I meant."

"Funny, because those are the words and the order you said them in," Sirius said, rubbing at his eyes.

"Are you okay?" Kingsley asked.

"I'm fine. I just didn't know you'd be home today," Sirius said groggily.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Kingsley asked. "You'd have cleaned yourself up so I wouldn't find out that this is what you've been like? Jesus, Sirius. When's the last time you left your bed? Seven days ago when I left?"

"Don't yell at me," Sirius snapped.

"I'm not yelling," Kingsley said. He chewed his lip. "I do sound like I'm getting mad."

"Yeah," Sirius said. "You do. And I promise, I'm already mad enough with myself as it is for being like this, so you can keep whatever it is you're going to say to yourself."

Kingsley chewed his lip.

"Can I… can I come in?"

"Fine."

"Only if you want to."

"Okay. Come in."

Kingsley stepped in and sat next to Sirius. He pushed his hair back and kissed his forehead.

"Hey," Kingsley said. "I missed you."

"I missed you too."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know Remus was being sent away. I didn't know you'd be alone," Kingsley said.

Sirius rubbed at his eyes. "I'm not a child that needs to be babysat, it's fine."

"No, it's not," Kingsley said, taking his hand. "It's not good for anyone to be alone."

"It's not like I'm not used to it," Sirius said. "I'm sorry, I… I should be better at this…"

"Don't worry," Kingsley said. "I just… I wish you… when's the last time you ate, Sirius? Or left your room?"

"Does it matter?" Sirius said.

"It matters to me. You matter to me."

"Don't."

"I will. I love you," Kingsley said. "So much. And I wouldn't be saying that if it wasn't true. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't true. And I'm sorry I got flustered. I just love you so easily, easier than I'm used to, that sometimes I forget that you have your own stuff going on and I wish you could just love yourself a little bit more too. That's not fair, and I'm sorry."

Sirius looked up to him, giving him a strange look.

"Stop looking for something witty or sassy to say," Kingsley said.

"I'm not," Sirius said. "I'm just… hearing your words in my head again. They're good."

Kingsley chewed his lip.

"I did say I love you, didn't I?"

"Is that what we're doing here?" Sirius asked. "This isn't a situation of convenience because we both happen to be in this house quite regularly, is it?"

"It never was," Kingsley said. "I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't genuinely care for you and want you to be happy, Sirius. That's whether or not I'm here, with or without me—for your own sake."

Sirius smiled a little bit and shook his head.

"I'm sorry. I promise, I'm not always this bad," Sirius said.

"I'm not upset," Kingsley said. "And you're not doing anything wrong. But I'm here now; let's spend the night together, okay? What do you want to do first? Wash your hair, get something to eat, change..?"

"Hair," Sirius said, running his hand through his locks.

"Okay," Kingsley said, holding out his hand. "As it turns out you were right and Muggle planes are _awful. _I feel disgusting, and should shower too. Let's go do that."

Sirius took his hand.


End file.
